


My Silver Lining

by MinMaxSpeech



Category: DCU
Genre: AU, Comfort, F/F, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:34:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24116596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinMaxSpeech/pseuds/MinMaxSpeech
Summary: Harleen Quinzel is a new psychiatrist working for Arkham Asylum. She’d been tasked with helping one of their more dangerous inmates grow into a better human being... Pamela Isley, known to the world as Poison Ivy. With kindness and a desire to help, Harleen sets off in her task, even if it takes a while to achieve it...
Relationships: Harleen Quinzel/Pamela Isley
Comments: 63
Kudos: 305





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I have a discord server! Please join it if you are interested in seeing more of my work, or simply hanging out! Link found at:  
> https://discord.gg/qcDh4ST

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a discord server! Please join it if you are interested in seeing more of my work, or simply hanging out! Link found at:  
> https://discord.gg/qcDh4ST

It was Harleen Quinzel’s first day working at the infamous Arkham Asylum. Years of education, sweat, tears, and stress all came together, netting the blonde her PhD. All to earn Harleen a job in what most would consider one of the worst places in the world. Almost anybody else would have gone to anywhere but Arkham when looking for work, somewhere that would not dramatically increase a worker’s risk of perishing each time they entered the building, perhaps, but the danger was what drew Harleen there more than anything else. The people locked in Arkham clearly needed help- otherwise they wouldn’t keep being returned there after leaving the ancient asylum. 

Names like Edward Nigma, Victor Fries, and the Joker (Apparently even the GCPD had no idea of his real name), intrigued Harleen to no end, people that were fascinating in their differences to neurotypical people, those who needed help more than anyone else. Harleen understood that perhaps she was too optimistic in what she would be able to do for the people locked away in Arkham, but at least one person that was genuinely wishing the best for someone could do a world of good, she thought. Even if just one person’s life changed for the better because of Harleen’s involvement, that was all she needed to know that she did the right thing. 

Upon entering the imposing, castle-like Asylum, somehow managing to appear both dilapidated and advanced thanks to the mix of ancient stone architecture and advanced Wayne Industries technologies, Harleen found herself slightly intimidated. Seeing the variety of incredibly advanced security measures, all for an asylum of people that needed help rather than fear, it worried her. A number of guards checked over Harleen before she could even enter the Asylum proper, as she expected. What made Harleen far more concerned were the conversations she was overhearing from a number of the guards, whom were clearly taking their break, based off of the phones in their hands, and their more relaxed postures- though, Harleen noted, their guns were still kept within arm’s reach. Some of the things that the guardsmen were saying horrified Harleen, though she was able to disguise her shock at such statements being made about such vulnerable people.

The moment that Harleen was granted access to the bulk of Arkham, the young woman darted through the building as quickly as possible. Not because of any real fear of the inmates- she doubted that they’d attack her without cause, and even if they would, she’d have ample warning to get out of the way. Instead, it was the guards that made Harleen uneasy. Acting as if the people interred in Arkham were beasts, animals, and monsters, rather than people. Such a way of thinking was likely why so many people in Arkham kept returning again and again and again, all caught by a strange man wearing a bat costume. 

Harleen had been briefed on the person she had been assigned to work with, prior to physically coming to work within the asylum itself. Pamela Isley. Better known to the world as Poison Ivy. Apparently, she had developed an intense hatred for humanity for the damage they had done to the ecosystem. For a moment, Harleen assumed that the woman was an eco-terrorist, but that idea was quickly altered upon learning of Pamela’s… unique biology. The woman had been exposed to a variety of chemicals and drugs, which had caused her body to mutate and become closer to that of a plant than a human. She could secrete toxins, and had a telepathic link to plant-life. The reason she loathed humanity wasn’t because she was simply angry about the environment, no. She could feel every plant that was crushed, killed, or maimed, and that pain drove her to create a world where that would no longer happen.

If Harleen was being honest with herself, she thought Pamela’s idea of an ideal world was an attractive one, if it wasn’t for the fact that to achieve it, she wished to exterminate humanity entirely. Still, she was happy to get such a difficult case. Someone that would pose a challenge to better. Harleen had no interest in being handed awards for her efforts, for being plastered over the news as the woman that cured the Joker, or something. No, she wished to simply make someone’s life better. The more difficult that is to do, the more rewarding it is if it comes to happen. 

Picking up her laptop, and slipping a small device into her pocket, Harleen approached Pamela’s cell. Through a one-way window, she observed the insides of the cell. The room was bare, with little in it beyond a speaker and a collection of books. Harleen noticed that every single one had their spines bent and malformed- a sign that Pamela had indeed been reading them. Still, Harleen wondered, that was all they were supplying such an intelligent woman for entertainment? According to her file, Pamela was a talented botanist, and a college graduate. And all they supplied her with were- Harleen quickly counted- twenty three books? It was shameful.

Harleen turned her attention to the woman in the cell. She wore a brightly coloured jumpsuit, likely a mandatory thing imposed by the asylum to track inmates. Beyond that, she had skin that was faintly coloured green, with bright, crimson hair, messily let down and cascading over her shoulders. Harleen wondered for a moment if Pamela did anything to maintain her hair, but discarded that thought. It was hardly useful at the moment. The woman had bags under her eyes, and her irises were a vivid emerald. Perhaps caused by the same incident that turned her blood into chlorophyll (how that happened, Harleen had no idea, but it had), or perhaps it was always such a vivid, beautiful colour. The fact Pamela hadn’t been sleeping excellently also worried Harleen. She would hardly be able to help Pamela if she was so tired that she wasn’t able to pay attention. 

Harleen stepped back from the window, and straightened out her attire. She wished she had a mirror on-hand. She wanted to make a decent first impression with her new patient, and that included her image. All she wore was a simple button-up shirt and trousers, and over the top of it, a lab-coat with the word “QUINZEL” stitched upon the right breast. Her hair was tied back into a pair of pigtails, with the tips of her hair dyed a bright crimson. She thought the look suited her well. She just hoped that Pamela also liked it. 

A moment passed, and Harleen took in a single breath, and stepped to the side. Laying a hand upon the biometric scanner used to open the cell, several quiet moments passed as the item scanned over Harleen’s palm. A soft “ding” could be heard as a light above the cell turned green.  
“You be careful, in there. She’s dangerous.” A guard spoke. Harleen turned back, and shot the guard a small smile.  
“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine! Trust me.” Harleen stepped into the cell, and closed the door behind her.


	2. First Impressions (Visit 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a discord server! Please join it if you are interested in seeing more of my work, or simply hanging out! Link found at:  
> https://discord.gg/qcDh4ST

Harleen noticed that Pamela didn’t even look up at her as she entered the room. The green-hued woman seemed to be pointedly ignoring Harleen, focused more upon the book that was resting upon the table. Harleen pulled one of the two seats at the chrome table aside, and sat down upon the uncomfortable plastic. For a moment, Harleen did nothing, and simply waited for Pamela to react to her presence. The only sound that could be heard was the ticking of a clock, suspended from the wall behind Pamela. Harleen glanced at it- it was nearly ten o’clock in the morning. Perhaps this was earlier than Pamela was used to having someone visit her? Or later? Harleen wasn’t sure, on that front.  
“Hello, Pamela.”  
“Fuck off.” Pamela growled, low and dangerous in her tone. For anyone else, with the knowledge of what Pamela was capable of, it would have scared them away. Harleen, however, was the perfect mix of stubborn and curious to remain.

Harleen leaned back in her seat, thinking for a moment.  
“I’m not going to do that, not yet.” She spoke, watching Pamela carefully. Not for fear of any sudden movements- she somehow doubted that Pamela would attack her for no reason, when there were so many people to stop her in the act… and painfully. Harleen loathed how much force seemed to be used in Arkham Asylum. All that would achieve is that it would make the people interred within much more willing to resist any form of help! Shaking her head, Harleen pulled her attention back to the reason she was here. Pamela hadn’t spoken to her, hadn’t even looked at her since Harleen spoke. “If you don’t want to speak, that’s fine. Would you be okay if I spoke instead, though?”  
“I told you. Fuck off.”  
“That’s not a yes or a no, Pamela.”

Pamela didn’t answer. Perhaps she was worried that Harleen would brutalise her if she acted in a way that Harleen didn’t desire. The very thought made Harleen sick to her stomach.  
“Okay, so… if you don’t want to talk, that’s fine. I’m going to stay here for a while, if you ever wish to talk, that’s up to you, okay? If you don’t want to, don’t feel comfortable, anything, that’s also fine. I’m here to help you, okay? I’m not here to hurt you, or anything.”  
“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Pamela laughed quietly to herself, her tone filled with rage and indignation. So the people in Arkham truly did act that way towards their inmates. To say that Harleen was disgusted was the utmost understatement. 

Harleen felt no reason to speak up. There was nothing that words could say that could change Pamela’s viewpoint of her in this immediate moment, and she wholly understood why. The only thing that Harleen did was set her laptop upon the table and open it, noting down what had happened so far between Harleen and Pamela. There wasn’t much, but what was there would be useful to remember. For a moment, in Harleen’s report, she labelled Pamela as “the patient”, but quickly erased it, and replaced it with Pamela’s name. Thinking of Pamela as a patient, an obstacle to overcome, that would do no good for either of them. The only way that Harleen could help Pamela would be if she constantly remembered that the person she was dealing with was a human. A hurt human, who simply needed some help.

Harleen and Pamela remained in silence for almost an hour before either person spoke. Pamela continued to read the book in front of her, and Harleen worked on various reports that she had been writing on-off, for her own entertainment, once she had finished noting down the information required on Pamela. Harleen tried to discern whatever Pamela was reading, but for all of the years she had spent reading textbooks and novels, it was unsurprisingly much harder to read long strings of prose from upside down.  
“The fuck are you doing?” Harleen was pulled away from her efforts to comprehend English from an entirely new angle by Pamela’s tone. The green-tinted woman was staring at Harleen accusingly.  
“Oh, um… I… Definitely wasn’t trying to read your book… Upside down…” Harleen spoke quietly, rubbing at the back of her neck with a nervous laugh. Pamela didn’t speak for a second, yet her focused, emerald hues drilled through Harleen, and it felt as if she was almost trying to will Harleen to meet some painful form of death.  
“Why are you even trying to do that?” Pamela spoke after a moment, bemusement creeping into her tone, lacing with the previous hostility. Well done, Harleen thought bitterly, you have one chance to cause a good first impression with someone, and you threw it all away.”  
“I was just curious what you were reading. That’s all.” Harleen spoke honestly. 

Pamela didn’t do anything for a moment, didn’t take her gaze off of Harleen. It was still just as piercing and accusatory as it was when Harleen first noticed it. Without saying a word, Ivy lifted the book up, showing the title of the novel to Harleen. Shadows Over The Light of Dawn. Harleen had vaguely heard of it. It had been incredibly popular several years ago, but Harleen was so focused upon her studies that any form of reading that didn’t better her chances of getting the job she desired were neglected entirely.  
“Thank you.” Harleen smiled and nodded at Pamela appreciatively. Pamela didn’t speak, and set the book back down upon the table, turning her eyes back to the words written on the pages. Harleen, on the other hand, quickly turned back to her laptop, and made a note to read the book, or at least start it, before she had another session with Pamela. At least that would give her something to talk about. Or give Harleen something to do in her ample free time. 

Neither woman really had much to say to the other, that much Harleen gathered in moments. Getting Pamela to truly trust her would take weeks or months of work, but that was what Harleen expected. Even if Pamela was so much more… aggressive, in her dismissals of Harleen, that small act of kindness, satiating Harleen’s curiosity… That told Harleen more than Pamela could have perhaps realised. If anything, it affirmed that there was something good in Pamela, something that needed to be drawn out, nurtured, and protected, until it bloomed like the most beautiful of roses. Harleen didn’t entirely know why she immediately defaulted to a plant metaphor when describing her treatment of Pamela. It just seemed to come naturally when thinking about the woman. 

It was strange, for Harleen. In all of her years of studying, she had of course learned about what to do with a patient that didn’t want to heal. But that hardly stopped it from being a surreal experience when it did occur. Having nothing to do but wait and write random reports that hardly seemed as interesting, or important, as the woman before her. Harleen wished she could do more for her, that she could be a magic bullet that instantly connected with anyone, allowed them to feel open and free, and let her do her job. But for all of Harleen’s optimism, she was aware that such things simply do not happen. People like Pamela need time, and pressing an issue would simply destroy any chance of doing good. 

Still, it didn’t stop all the waiting from being frustrating.

Time passed surprisingly quickly, for two women with very little to do but stay in the same place as one another. Harleen didn’t even make a token attempt at conversation, and instead chose to remain, merely in case Pamela wished to speak to her. She did not. A glance at the time on Harleen’s laptop told the psychologist that it was half-past three. Given all of the time that Pamela had had to speak, and not taken (not that Harleen begrudged her for it), it seemed as if today simply wasn’t going to be a day for taking leaps and bounds in Pamela’s treatment. 

Clicking her laptop shut, Harleen arose from her seat.  
“Leaving so soon?” A small smirk crossed Pamela’s features.  
“For now, yep.” Harleen smiled, scooping up her laptop under one of her arms. Pamela didn’t look up at Harleen, but the blonde noticed that Pamela’s eyes had stopped scanning the page of her book also. She was listening, at least. “But, I have something for you. It’s nothing much, but I thought you might like it.”  
“Is it another book of classic english literature?” Pamela laughed coldly.  
“Nope!” Harleen grinned, and fished into her pocket for a moment, extracting out a small device. It wasn’t flashy, and was merely a handheld gaming console released a number of years ago. It’s charging cable followed. Harleen set them both down upon the table for Pamela.  
“This used to be mine, but… I think you could use it more. Think of it as a peace offering, I suppose.” Harleen smiled. “It’s something to do other than read these books again and again, at least.”  
“I suppose there’s no internet connection, on it?”  
“Not now, no. I asked, and the warden said that wasn’t allowed, even if the device is.”  
“A pity.” Pamela noted, sarcasm seeping into her tone. Harleen couldn’t tell if Pamela was happy to have the device, or annoyed. She hoped the former.  
“I’ll see you later, okay?” Harleen spoke after a moment. Pamela didn’t respond. 

Stepping out of Pamela’s room, Harleen smiled to herself, slightly. At least she tried. At least she attempted to connect with Pamela. At least she didn’t burn a bridge before it could begin construction. Sliding her laptop into her bag, Harleen glanced back through the one-way window, to check on Pamela one last time before she left. The green-hued woman was still sat in her seat, but the book she was reading was closed, and pushed out of the way. The console that Harleen had left Pamela was activated, and in her hands. A small smile was visible upon Pamela’s visage. A smile that Harleen mirrored. It wasn’t much, but at least she could make Pamela’s days slightly better. This once.


	3. Conversational (Visit 3)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a discord server! Please join it if you are interested in seeing more of my work, or simply hanging out! Link found at:  
> https://discord.gg/qcDh4ST

Slowly, the door to Pamela’s room swung open. Just as it had with the previous two times, Harleen stepped in, laptop tucked away under one of her arms. Unlike the other times, however, the room’s occupant actually looked up to see Harleen as she entered. No warmness was visible in her gaze, still, however. Harleen had quickly learned to take small victories where they fell when it concerned Pamela, though, and saw it as progress that at least Pamela was willing to acknowledge her existence. The previous visit had been much like the first, the two sitting in awkward silence, while Pamela studied her book, or played her game, and Harleen worked on her writings. 

“Hi!” Harleen waved to her red-headed patient, a smile visible and shining upon her visage as she did so.  
“Hello.” Pamela replied, watching Harleen with a cool gaze. She looked just the same as she did the last two times Harleen had visited her. Harleen doubted that Arkham allowed much for people to dress the way they wish. Hell, considering the things Harleen had overheard from the guards of Arkham, losing autonomy over one’s attire choices was likely the least of a patient’s concerns. Some of the things they said made the blonde sick to her stomach, but she couldn’t do anything to stop it. Not yet, at least.  
“How are you, Pamela?”  
“Fine, I guess.” The green-hued woman shrugged, “As good as I could be, while I’m locked in here.”  
“At least it’s something!” Harleen commented, internally agreeing with her patient’s cynicism about the quality of the asylum. She’d have to speak with the Warden about improving conditions here, at some point. She doubted that he would listen, but she would have to at least try.  
“Perhaps. I assume you’re here again to try and… ‘fix’ me?”  
“Do people really talk like that around here?”  
“Of course they do.”

Harleen leaned back in her seat, and shook her head.  
“You need something to be broken before you can fix it.”  
“And I’m not?” Pamela laughed coldly.  
“I don’t think so, no.” Harleen commented honestly, meeting Pamela’s jade hues. The redhead didn’t respond for a moment, and clearly considered her words carefully. Harleen expected none less. Pamela was both intelligent enough to know what to say and when, and distrustful enough to withhold anything useful from Harleen. An irritating, if fascinating combination.  
“I’m surprised that you’d say that. You’re either the most naive person I’ve ever met, or you understand nuance.”  
“Honestly, I think both things are probably true.” Harleen smiled slightly.  
“Personally, I’m currently leaning more towards one than the other.” Pamela spoke, a small smirk growing upon her features. 

It took a moment before either woman spoke again. Harleen didn’t want to pressure Pamela too much, and Pamela seemed to enjoy her moment of victory over Harleen, and wished to relish it. Harleen was happy to allow her to do that. Quickly noting down small things for both her report and her work for Arkham, Pamela pulled Harleen away from her writing.  
“So, where are you from?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“I can hardly imagine anyone living in Gotham would be willing to work here, considering who else is here.” Pamela noted, “That is, if you aren’t acting this kind shit up to try and get a better position here.”  
“No, I’m from Gotham,” Harleen laughed, leaning back in her seat, “I just want to help, and I figured that it’s far better to try and help people who- no offense- are seen by most as violent, depraved monsters, because it’s not like anyone else is gonna come here and show basic human decency to you guys.”  
“So, you’re an optimist, huh?” Pamela laughed. There was no warmth in her tone. Harleen had already gathered that Pamela’s questioning was far more for Pamela’s benefit than Harleen’s. She was likely trying to figure the blonde out, to try and discern if she truly believed the stuff she said. 

Harleen was surprised by how much it stung to see Pamela’s cynicism and distrust towards her. She understood exactly why the green-hued woman was as unwilling to trust anyone as she was. From the years of living in Arkham, a place where inmates are regularly treated horrifically (from what she had overheard guards referencing), and her only times in the outside world either being her getting attacked by a man in a bat costume, or plotting some strange scheme. Harleen was surprised just how much sympathy she felt for Pamela. She wouldn’t admit this to her higher-ups, and she’d never note it in her reports, however. All that admitting she cared about Pamela would do was cause trouble. 

“So, have you been enjoying your games? Harleen questioned, leaning forwards in her seat and meeting Pamela’s emerald-coloured hues.  
“The ones you left me, you mean? They’re palatable. I don’t know if I’d play them at any other time, but they’re certainly better than re-reading one of my books for the hundredth time.”  
“They really don’t supply you with any entertainment, here?” Pamela laughed at this.  
“You’re the only person in Arkham I’ve encountered so far that doesn’t simply pretend I don’t exist. It suits me. I suppose it’s because of the toxins I produce. No one wants to come near me, so they just abandoned me with a half-full bookshelf and left me to wither.” 

Harleen had no words, for a moment. She opened her mouth, but no sound left her lips. Eventually, a question popped into the blonde’s mind, which she had to ask.  
“Do you know how they treat other prisoners?”  
“You work here. Surely you know better than I.”  
“You have firsthand experience here, was more my thinking. I’m still sorta new.”  
“I’m not allowed to leave my cell, ever. Security risk. You know far more than I ever could. All I see of the outside world is either through books, games, or escapes.” Pamela gave Harleen a flat look, “Surely you must have realised that no one goes to Arkham for minor mental health issues. We’re all dangerous, raving lunatics that must be locked away for the good of everyone, according to most people.”  
“I can’t say you’re not dangerous, but you’re far from a raving lunatic. Honestly, this has been the most intelligent conversation I’ve had with anyone in this place.” Pamela laughed. This time, Harleen was almost delighted to hear genuine amusement in her tone.  
“I don’t doubt it.” 

Harleen and Pamela shared a somewhat amicable conversation for another hour. They didn’t talk about anything of particular note, it was more simply passing the time than it was now attempting to gather vital information. Harleen saw it as far from a waste of her time, however. Pamela was an intelligent, thought-provoking woman, even if her distrust towards Harleen’s true intentions were evident. Harleen had grown somewhat used to the jabs at the asylum, at Pamela’s habit of saying a lot without ever truly revealing anything of note. It was a mild annoyance, to be sure, but nothing that Harleen could not work with. It helped that Pamela was a fascinating woman, and simply talking to her was a treat. 

Perhaps Harleen was taking the idea of caring for her patient too far. Or perhaps she genuinely did want to be friends with the green-hued woman. Harleen didn’t see it as a crime. If Pamela trusted her, and was her friend, that would just allow Harleen to even better assist the redhead.  
“So, I think it’s time I make my dramatic exit!” Harleen noted, as she noticed that it was yet again nearing three o’clock. Pamela nodded, gripping the games console in one hand, and pulling it towards her. “I’ll see you later, okay?”  
“See you, I guess.”

Harleen pushed the door to the cell open, and quickly stepped outside. She shot Pamela a small smile- one that the redhead didn’t see- before closing the door behind her. The soft click of the lock on the door snapping shut was already becoming a familiar noise. Harleen wondered when she could next see Pamela. Given the length of their conversation, it seemed as if Pamela would have a far better chance at allowing Harleen to help her than the blonde had initially suspected… And that made Harleen wonderfully excited to see how things go.


	4. Rememberance (Visit 7)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a discord server! Please join it if you are interested in seeing more of my work, or simply hanging out! Link found at:  
> https://discord.gg/qcDh4ST

“Hello, Harleen.” Pamela spoke as the door to her cell opened. Harleen’s eyes widened slightly as she stepped inside.  
“Hi!” Harleen grinned. It was the first time that Pamela had gone out of her way to greet her, rather than responding to Harleen’s own greeting. Progress. That was good. Harleen had now been visiting Pamela for almost two months- a meeting a week. Slowly, their relationship had developed into something that Harleen couldn’t call friendly, but could at least hope had far less active mistrust and cynicism. Harleen still hoped that a friendship could be forged between the two, but gladly accepted any and all progress as it came. 

Harleen had grown used to actively anticipating her meetings with Pamela. The woman’s incredible intelligence was always a fascinating thing to explore. Even if Pamela never truly said much of importance, a great deal of the time, the green-skinned botanist still had an immense intellect that Harleen savoured hearing from.  
“How are you?” Harleen opened up her laptop and leaned back in her seat, making eye contact with her patient. A small smile was still visible upon her features, her eyes shining with warmth.  
“Same as usual, honestly.” Pamela shrugged, “Don’t have too much to do, really, do I?”  
“Do you need me to get you more stuff?”   
“Maybe, at some point. For now I can live with what I have, though.”  
“If you’re sure…” Harleen trailed off, glancing away from Pamela. Guilt slowly began to eat away at Harleen’s good mood. Seeing just how awfully Arkham treated it’s inmates never grew easier for Harleen. If anything, such sights combined with her growing attachment to her patient only made it all the more difficult. 

Pamela reclined backwards in her seat, her crimson locks cascading down the backrest. The green-hued woman said nothing for a moment, and simply seemed to relax in Harley’s presence.  
“So, can I ask you something, then?” Pamela glanced back towards the blonde.   
“Of course you can!” Harleen grinned.  
“If you really did come here to help people, like you said… why me?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Well, surely you could have gotten anyone in this shithole if you just asked the Warden. You could have gotten one of the safer people, the people that wouldn’t try to murder the people that try to help them. Or you could have gotten one of the more prolific bad-guys, become famous for curing them. Why me?”  
“I’ll be honest with you. You deserve that. I… did consider, before I came here to work properly. Asking to treat the Joker, in fact. I figured ‘hey, he’s the one that needs help the most out of all these people’, but I stopped. I realised that it wouldn’t be fair, if I picked and chose at who I got to treat. You were the one I was chosen to help, and I’m gonna do that, not go after the clown just because he’d be the one to get me lotsa money.”  
“How altruistic of you.”   
“Yeah, I shouldn’t have thought about asking in the first place, honestly, but I’d rather realise I was wrong and admit to that than I would pretend it didn’t happen, and not learn a thing, y’know?”

Pamela leaned forward in her seat, resting her elbows against the cool plastic of the table separating her from the blonde. Realistically it was no distance at all- Pamela could reach out and cup Harleen’s cheek without effort at all, but it still felt like a thousand miles to Harleen. Perhaps at some point she would be able to convince the Warden to install things like a couch to sit on instead. Sitting at a desk was far too formal for Harleen’s comfort, if she was being honest with herself.  
“That’s an intelligence I didn’t expect to hear from anyone working for this place, I won’t lie. Everyone else here either hides their fuckups or boasts about them loudly and proudly. Actually learning from shit? Growing? That’s…. strange.”  
“How is it strange?”  
“It doesn’t matter.” Pamela shook her head, glancing away from the blonde for a moment. The redhead was visibly deep in thought about something- what, Harleen couldn’t possibly know. After a moment, Pamela shook her head once more, and met Harleen’s gaze.

“So, you really want to know more about me?” Pamela inquired.  
“Of course I do!”   
“I assume you’d be interested, then, in hearing how I became… this.” Pamela gestured to herself.   
“I would, yeah, but only if you’re comfortable telling me!”   
“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t comfortable telling the story, Harleen.” Pamela leaned back in her seat and relaxed, “It was a few years ago, by now. I was working for the Gotham Botanical Gardens. It was a pretty fun job, to be honest, I was doing experiments to try and find ways to better cultivate growth in plantlife.”  
“Did you succeed?”  
“I did indeed, about a year into my time with the gardens, I’d managed to create a chemical that would vastly improve how quickly plantlife grew, and without significant harm to the plants in question. Only one other knew I’d done it, my boss, who was overseeing all my work. He was a demanding, brutish sort of man, very driven to whatever he wanted to have done. Turns out, what he wanted to do was… not for the benefit of the world, or for his job.”  
“What was he wanting?”  
“Money and fame, obviously. After I’d finished my research, I made a few barrels of the chemical. I left them in my lab overnight, I could hardly take them anywhere else, could I? The bastard waited until I left, and slipped a few extra ingredients into my work, and slipped out. When I came back to begin to make more, and to finalise my work, he came in, and shoved me into the barrels, before stealing my laptop and running. When I fell into the barrels, the mix of chemicals inside was set off, and they exploded over me.”  
“He tried to kill you?!” Alarm was evident in Harleen’s tone.  
“Of course he did.” Pamela smirked, “It didn’t work, naturally. The mix made me into what I am now. I suppose I should thank him for it.”  
“What happened to the boss?”  
“Oh, he didn’t get too far. He managed to get back to his home, and was in the middle of copying all my files when I got to him. He… He was the first man I killed. I don’t regret doing it, either.”  
“He sounds like he deserved what he got.” Harleen noted. 

Pamela raised a single crimson eyebrow at Harleen’s remark.  
“Well then, the goody-two-shoes isn’t horrified by the fact that she’s in the room with a killer?”  
“I knew you were a killer before I met you, Red. This doesn’t change that, it just… makes things more understandable, I guess.” Harleen shrugged.  
“Red?”  
“Yeah, I need something to call you that isn’t too formal, if that’s alright.”  
“Of course it is. I’m still just… slightly surprised. The last doctor I told that to said I was a monster, that I deserved to stay here until the end of my days for the horrifying crime of killing a greedy, murderous bastard.”   
“Wait… Really?”  
“I would have thought you’d be used to Arkham hardly caring for it’s patients’ wellbeing at this point.”  
“I am, doesn’t mean I’m not shocked every time I hear it, though.”   
“Understandable.” Pamela nodded, “I must say, though, that you’re… certainly seeming like an exception to that rule.”  
“Why?”  
“Because… I don’t know, you actually seem like you care? Everyone else here is either picking up a paycheck or is just as much of an asshole as the people locked in these empty cells. You are either putting up a fantastic act of being kind, or you’re genuinely kind, and either way, it’s a refreshing change of pace, I guess.”   
“Thank you for that, Red!”  
“Don’t mention it, Harley.”  
“Harley?” The blonde raised an eyebrow.   
“You have a nickname for me, I have a nickname for you. Hardly as inventive as looking at the colour of my hair, but still, it’s something.”  
“I like it.” Harley grinned. 

Harley spent some time simply typing up what she had heard from Pamela upon her laptop, making sure she noted down anything that might be of any importance, before leaning back.   
“Can I say, I’m sorry, Red.”  
“For what?” Pamela laughed, “Last I checked, you haven’t done anything to hurt me.”  
“For the fact you’re here in the first place. That shit shouldn’t have happened to you. You didn’t deserve to be turned into this.”  
“Perhaps, but it was the way the cards fell down, is it not?”  
“Not denying that, but I can still show sympathy for you, can’t I?”  
“You have me there.” Pamela laughed.


	5. Friendship (Visit 15)

It had been almost four months since Harley had first met Pamela. It took time for Pamela to open up to Harley, to allow the blonde to genuinely work towards helping her patient, but after Pamela did decide to- on some level- trust Harley, things began to improve. Where once distrust and resent lingered, now, something more akin to genuine affection was evident in Pamela’s interactions with Harley. Harley had petitioned Arkham to allow Pamela more freedoms, and after a prolonged period of good behavior from the green-hued woman, the Warden had seen it fit to grant them.

Harley was amazed she managed to keep her horror hidden at the fact that the people at Arkham had to earn such rights as the ability to talk with other people or the ability to go for a walk within the grounds of the facility. Still, she managed it- she dreaded to think how the Warden or guards would react if they knew just how deeply she cared about Pamela, as a friend. Still, the freedoms that Harley had gotten for Pamela were more than she had known prior to her meeting Harley. 

Even when Harley wasn’t scheduled to be at work with Pamela, she had still been remaining in contact, talking with the green-hued woman over the phone. It was the thing Harley had to campaign hardest to allow, but it had worked. It was surprising how effective Harley was at manipulating the warden. Something told the blonde that he didn’t truly care, as long as nobody died and nobody escaped. It was something that Harley could work with- his lack of giving a crap about the people he was meant to care for meant that Harley could do her job even more effectively by sneaking in small presents for Pamela, or by allowing her to do more than perhaps a stricter warden would. 

She deeply wished the people in Arkham cared more, but for as long as they didn’t give a damn, Harley would take advantage to do her own job as best she can. 

It was another one of their meetings, on a surprisingly chilly Sunday. Harley and Pamela were strolling the grounds of Arkham together, a steaming coffee clutched in Harley’s grip. At first, Harley had suggested visiting the old greenhouse that remained on the grounds of Arkham, but Pamela and the nearby guards had both made it very clear that despite Pamela’s good behavior, she was in no way allowed anywhere near the botanical gardens on the island. It was a shame, but one Harley could work with.

“Can I ask you something, Harley?” Pamela quietly questioned. She had pulled one of Harley’s old coats around herself, one of many gifts that the blonde had given the redhead. It seemed that Pamela was more sensitive to temperature extremes- both hot and cold- than Harley was, and Harley was more than happy to lend some clothing over to her patient- even if all of it needed to be cleared by security and have Arkham iconography sewn on.   
“Of course, Red!” Harley grinned, taking a sip of her sugary drink.   
“Do you get any shit, from the people here?”  
“The inmates or the guards?”  
“Both.”  
“Not really? I guess to them I’m just another cog in the machine.”  
“Despite all the work you put in?”   
“Yeah, I guess. The guards don’t really give a shit and the warden treats me like a kid who asks for a little too much, I think, really. Why do you ask?”  
“I was just wondering, that’s all.” Pamela trailed off, plunging her hands into her coat’s empty pockets. Harley raised an eyebrow, and slowed to a halt.

“What is it?” Pamela spun on her heels to look at Harley confusedly.  
“Just thinking.”  
“About?”  
“You, actually.”  
“Do I have my clothes on in these thoughts?” Pamela chuckled to herself.  
“Well, yeah, you do.” Harley smirked, “I’m just kinda wondering why you’d ask something like that.”  
“I did say I was just curious.”  
“Maybe, but someone that’s just curious wouldn’t be pointedly asking a question like that while we’re away from the recording equipment for once.” Harley gestured around to the empty courtyard they had wandered into, careful not to spill her coffee.  
“You’re smarter than you look, Harley.” Pamela nodded, wandering over to a nearby bench, and gesturing for Harley to follow, which the blonde quickly did.

Harley collapsed back against the wooden seat, before she turned to glance at her green-tinted patient, curiosity still evident in her gaze.   
“Yeah,” Pamela spoke after a moment, “There was a point to it. I sorta care about you, now, I guess? I just wanted to make sure you weren’t getting any shit for working with me.”  
“You like me?”  
“I don’t know if I’d say that yet, Harl, but maybe, yeah. It’s hard for me to tell.”  
“Why?”   
“Ever since I got those fucking chemicals over me, changing me into… this, it’s been harder and harder to care for humans. It’s why I found comfort in my plants, I guess. Humans were pitiful, to be used only as meat and muscle, while I tended to my babies.”  
“And what changed?”  
“I don’t know!” Pamela threw her hands up into the air for a moment. “I think it’s just cuz you care, really.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“I mean that ever since I turned into this, I don’t think I’ve been called by my name once. I’ve been asked for my name, by guards and fuckwits wanting to bone me, sure, but never called it. I’m not Pamela, to them. That would make me human. No, I’m a freak, I’m a monster, I’m poison ivy.”   
“I’ve used your name, though…” Harley glanced away from Pamela for a moment.   
“I know, you’re the exception to the rule, here, Harley.” Pamela chuckled, “I just… I don’t know what to do with you, honestly.”  
“Whatcha mean, Red?”  
“I mean that you… you defy everything I’ve thought about humans. I thought that all of you were cruel, or moronic, abusing nature for your own benefits and steamrolling anything that gets in your way. What’s the phrase? Paving over paradise to put up a parking lot?”   
“Well… I can’t say you’re wrong,” Harley conceded, “But a lot of that isn’t people’s fault. If they’re told, explained, and given reason to improve, they will! Not everyone, sure, but you can change a lot of minds if you know what you’re doing, I think.”  
“Perhaps.” Pamela sounded deep in thought. 

Harley drank the last of her coffee, and threw the cardboard cup into a nearby recycling bin. Arising to her feet, the blonde extended a hand out for Pamela.  
“Wanna keep walking for a little bit, before I have to take you back?” Harley questioned, a bright grin upon her face. After a short moment, Pamela took her hand. As Pamela was pulled to her feet by the deceptively strong Harley, the green-hued woman let out a quiet gasp as she felt the shorter woman release her hand, and quickly wrap her arms around Pamela’s midsection. The redhead’s hands remained awkwardly held out in the air for a moment, unsure of what to do. After a few seconds, Harley released her patient, the dazzling smile still evident upon her features.   
“And… what was that for?” Pamela raised a crimson eyebrow as she looked evenly at the shorter blonde.  
“Oh, I just wanted to thank you for telling me that!” Harley spoke, “I know it’s not easy for you to deal with this stuff, and I wanted to show my appreciation. I can’t just do that by giving ya stuff, so I thought I’d give you a hug instead!”   
“You give me things for opening up to you?”   
“Not really, no, but I wanted to show you some way of appreciating what you did, and I get that words can be quite hollow, so I figured ‘why not a hug?’ If you’re uncomfortable, I won’t do it again, kay?”   
“I…” Pamela paused, thinking, “It’s fine. Don’t worry, okay, Harls?”  
“Okay! Wanna keep going?”  
“Sure, let’s go.”


	6. Breakout (Visit 23)

Harley was stunned to see the news as she awoke for another visit with Pamela. There had been a mass breakout at Arkham Asylum, spearheaded by the Joker. Around seventy percent of Arkham’s inmates had fled the facility. The Batman and his various allies had taken to Gotham to recapture the inmates and bring them back- but they were still far from finished. As Harley quickly clambered into the back of her car, worry sparked through her mind. What happened if Pamela was hurt? If she took her chance to get out of that awful place and was rounded up again and brutalised by the bat? Harley could only hope that Pamela was safe and okay, whether in her cell or in Gotham. 

Harley wondered if there was something wrong with her for how much she had grown to value Pamela as a friend. The fact that she wished that Pamela escaped from Arkham safely more than she did wish that the green-tinted woman remained within the bounds of the asylum potentially said a great deal about her. It was certainly nothing she would confess to any workers at arkham- after so much time working and improving Pamela’s mental state, she was wholly set in seeing this through to the end. Still, Harley wondered what it truly said about her that she preferred the idea of a dangerous former supercriminal running around Gotham than her remaining where the law dictated she be.

Harley quickly arrived at Arkham, thankfully. Not many people were on the road in Gotham that morning- likely afraid of being attacked by the people who had freed themselves from the Asylum. After entering, Harley quickly made her way to Pamela’s cell. Harley’s nerves were hyperactive, worried that the room would be empty, or that there would be a green hued woman within with newfound injuries. Not thinking to look in the window, Harley entered the cell…

To see Pamela sat upon her bed, sipping a cup of coffee.  
“Red!” Harley grinned at the sight of her friend and patient, safe and happy. “You’re okay!”  
“Of course I am.” Pamela smirked. She was sitting down upon her bed. Harley quickly joined her, sitting next to Pamela. The bed gently creaked under her weight as she collapsed back, Harley’s features sporting a bright grin.  
“I heard about the breakout and I was worried for you.”  
“Why?”  
“I thought you’d try to escape, or get hurt in it all.” Harley confessed, carefully choosing her words to make sure that the cameras and sound systems wouldn’t catch her saying anything she shouldn’t be.  
“Why would I do that?” Pamela smirked.  
“To get out of this place?” Harley suggested.  
“What’s the point?” Pamela shrugged.

The crimson-haired woman leaned back against the cool wall of her cell, the smirk still evident on her features. Pamela rapped her fingers against the mug of her steaming coffee.  
“I’ve been thinking about a lot, recently. Being in a cell for most of your time gives you a lot of time for self-reflection, after all.” Pamela spoke, “And… I don’t know. When the breakout started, when Joker and his maniacs started rushing out, I didn’t even want to go. It’s not like I want to stay, god no. It’s that… I didn’t want to be with them.”  
“So you stayed?”  
“Yeah, I stayed in here. Blocked the world out, and stayed put. Figured it was safer to pretend the cell was empty than it was to do anything else. Everyone just sorta rushed past me. It was insane to see, honestly.”  
“So why didn’t you break out after they’d gone? There was no-one to stop you.”  
“Because… I don’t really know. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about what I want to do, in the future. You’ve made me think, and I… I don’t want to just be a sociopathic terrorist. I haven’t stopped believing in my cause, but there’s better ways to do it, I guess. And I figured it’s better to stay, get sorted and released from Arkham properly, than it is to wander out into the world with no plan and no one to help me. When in here, I have you.”  
“Me?”  
“Yeah. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’re my best friend, Harley. My only friend. I don’t want to lose you.”

Harley didn’t know how to respond. Such admissions from Pamela were never anything that Harley had considered ever happening. Hell, she was still shocked from seeing the redhead in her cell. Pamela had indeed been growing closer and closer to her over time, but to say such things about Harley? Harley at all sure how to react to that.  
“Harley? You alright?”  
“Yeah, I am, Red. Sorry.”  
“Don’t worry.” Pamela smiled warmly.  
“Thanks. Seriously. I don’t know what to say to you.”  
“You don’t need to say anything, honestly. Don’t worry.”

“Honestly, Red. I’ll talk to the Warden. The fact you did all this… I guarantee we can improve your conditions here a lot.” Harley noted.  
“I’d appreciate it. Just know I didn’t do it to make that piece of shit happy.”  
“I know you didn’t, but we might as well do what we can.”  
“Good idea.” Pamela nodded. “Honestly, if you’d be able to convince him to let me keep a few flowers, it would do me a hell of a lot of good. I miss my babies.”  
“I’ll see if I can’t talk him into letting you go into the botanical gardens with me the next time I’m here, alright?”  
“I’d love that.” Pamela grinned brightly. It was an unfamiliar expression on the green-hued woman’s features, but one that Harley instantly loved to see. 

Harley and Pamela passed their time together simply chatting, and relaxing. However, Harley noticed something in her green-hued friend that hadn’t been there before. Whenever Harley and Pamela had met before, there had been a level of awkwardness, of one party not entirely trusting the other on some level. That had vanished. Pamela seemed… happier, she seemed more willing to laugh at Harley’s bad jokes, to share small stories of her past that didn’t truly mean much to healing her, but interested Harley greatly. 

Perhaps, for all the damage that the breakout caused in Arkham Asylum, it had been what Pamela truly needed. Harley wondered what had caused Pamela to act in such a way- it wasn’t a cynical act to be released, Harley could easily see that. It was genuine, and that was perhaps the most perplexing and amazing thing Harley had seen yet. 

The time flew by, hours passing without Harley’s notice. The two women simply talking, having fun, and relaxing. For the first time, Harley could definitely say that she and Pamela were friends. And it was an utterly magical experience. The level of pride that Harley felt towards Pamela for all the growth she had experienced could hardly be matched by anything else the blonde had experienced. 

When it came time for Harley to leave, she was hesistant.  
“I kinda don’t want to go, honestly, Red.”  
“Why?” Pamela raised a crimson eyebrow.  
“Because I’ve really liked talking with you, today!”  
“Well, call me tomorrow and we can talk some more. Go on, head off before we both get in trouble.” Pamela laughed, leaning back and picking up her video game, her gaze not leaving Harley however.  
“Alright, then. I’m looking forward to it!” Harley grinned.  
“See you, Harl.”

Harley returned to her car with little fanfare. Apparently Batman was in the Asylum with one of the escaped inmates- Harley didn’t catch which of the many it was, and truly wasn’t interested in the moment. As the blonde departed from the Asylum, her mind lingered on Pamela.

Her laugh, her smile, her happiness. It was all infectiously wonderful to Harley. Harley realised that she just wanted to see or hear it again. To spend more time with her friend. Harley hadn’t felt something like this about someone… ever. Harley combed her mind to wonder what it could mean. With a sudden, irritating realisation, Harley realised exactly why she felt such things about Pamela. 

She had a crush on Pamela.

_Fuck._


	7. Freedom (Visit 30)

Harley and Pamela were spending yet another day in the botanical gardens of Arkham Asylum. Overhead, the bright sun of spring shone down upon their heads through the glass ceiling of the greenhouse. Harley was not wearing her usual attire, and had instead- due to the sweltering heat in the botanical gardens building- decided to don a simple t-shirt and skirt. In her over half a year at Arkham Asylum, the guards had grown used to recognising her, fortunately. It allowed Harley to occasionally wear things that were perhaps not to the regulations laid out in Arkham. After all her work with Pamela, the Warden of the Asylum had allowed her some leeway to act as she wished, it seemed. 

Pamela was busying herself with maintaining a bed of bright crimson roses. Harley, on the other hand, was observing the redhead, a few feet back from her patient. Harley had taken to reading a message sent to her by the warden just that morning. It was marked as being essential- but Harley had yet to have a chance to study it prior to this moment. Pamela always demanded her attention more than anything else when she was her patient. It was, after all, her job to focus on Pamela above all else, when the green-tinted woman was in her care. 

Neither woman felt like they had to force a conversation. It was hardly going to matter much, and if neither person had anything to say, it was far more pleasurable to simply say nothing and relax in each other’s presence. Harley had grown to feel like she was truly at ease around Pamela, even if almost everything else that occurred in the Asylum still made Harley deeply. It was strange. Harley had heard so much of the infamous reputation of the inmates of Arkham… and all it took to truly break through to Pamela was human decency and kindness. If Harley ever got the chance to implement change within the ancient halls of Arkham, she doubted a single aspect of how the place is run would remain the same.

Harley returned to her message from the warden. As her eyes gazed across one specific line, the blonde’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline.  
“Red!” Harley shouted out, excitement evident in her tone.  
“One second, Harley.” Pamela didn’t look back at Harley for a moment as she finished pruning one of the many crimson flowers before her. Spinning on her heels, the former supervillain raised an eyebrow of her own. “What is it?”  
“Look!” Harley thrust her phone into Pamela’s hand. Pamela fumbled with the device for a moment, and shot her friend a deadpan look, before turning her gaze down towards the phone in her hand.

On the phone, a single sentence, written in bolded text, had been highlighted by Harley.  
_‘Pamela Isley is allowed to leave Arkham Asylum freely.’_  
“Does this mean…?”  
“You’re free!” Harley laughed, snatching her phone from the grip of her friend. Pamela was stunned into silence.  
“How… the actual fuck…?” Pamela shook her head, and glanced back towards her blonde friend.  
“What is it?” Harley shot Pamela a confused look.  
“I just… I don’t know. I thought they’d never let me go, honestly? Like sure they allowed me all this nice shit, but only because you pressured them on it.” Pamela noted, “I don’t know, I just sorta thought that they’d never actually give me my life back.”  
“Would it make you happier or angrier if I told you I’ve been pressuring the Warden for about a month to do this?”  
“It at least makes things make sense.” Pamela laughed.

Pamela didn’t speak for a short while, instead visibly mulling over what she’d learned.  
“What am I gonna do?” Pamela questioned.  
“Whatcha mean, Red?”  
“I… I haven’t got any plans. I have nowhere to live, nowhere to work, I just… have nothing. Even my old safehouses are probably all shut down, and even if they’re not, using any of them as a place to sleep probably would only send bad messages.”  
“Well, you could always stay with me?”  
“What?”  
“My place is fairly big. You can stay with me in my home, until you get your own place!” Harley grinned.  
“I wouldn’t be able to help you pay rent for a while, or anything.”  
“And? I have more money than I need, and I’d rather help you than just burn it on random crap.” 

Pamela didn’t say a word. Instead, she simply stepped towards her blonde friend, and quickly pulled the shorter woman into a tight hug. Harley was grateful that Pamela couldn’t see her face, as her features had erupted in a glowing crimson blush, having a woman she cared for in such a way act as she did.  
“Thank you, Harley.” Pamela spoke eventually, “I’ll try and find some way to pay you back, okay?”  
“Y-yeah! You don’t need to worry, though.” Harley stammered out, unsure of how to react in Pamela’s embrace. As the green-hued woman released Harley from her grasp, Harley could only hope that Pamela didn’t notice her complexion. The small smirk that graced Pamela’s face as she gazed upon Harley’s visage told the blonde everything.

She definitely noticed. 

Harley rubbed at the back of her neck, her crush never leaving her sight.  
“So… do you wanna stay here, or do you wanna be rid of this place?”  
“I think you know the answer to that.” Pamela grinned, turning to face the exit to the botanical gardens. “I can always get a new garden. But a chance to leave this place, and never have to worry about coming back to this complete shithole? That only comes once in a lifetime.”  
“So we’re going?”  
“Fuck. Yes.”


	8. Adoration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I'm sorry for the wait on this final chapter guys, but here it is! I hope you've enjoyed this ride!

Harley Quinn was giddy as she stepped over the threshold to her flat. Clutched in one hand was a letter that had been handed to her when she arrived at Arkham, and before she had set off home, she had taken the time to read it.

_Harleen Quinzel,  
I hope this letter finds you well. I have heard from various sources that you have been performing great work within Arkham Asylum, and would like to personally offer you my thanks for your work with the troubled individuals within the Asylum, particularly your efforts with Pamela Isley. Enclosed is a cheque, consider it your reward for a job well-done. I would also like to offer Miss Isley a position working in Wayne Botanical. I am more than willing to assist her in anything she needs, and I am sure she would be able to do great things for not just the people of Gotham, but the world. Please inform her of this- I do not know where she lives, and have to rely upon you to deliver the message, for which I apologise. Once more, thank you for your work.  
Sincerely, Bruce Wayne. _

Harley kicked off her shoes upon entering, and slammed the door shut. A bright grin shone upon her face, as she held the letter in one hand, and the cheque in the other. She had already organised to take the following day off so she could cash it, and potentially begin working towards moving into a new home. She collapsed backwards onto her couch, throwing her arms backwards and stretching into a comfortable position.  
“Red! Get in here!” Harley called out.  
“Just a moment! I’m working on something!”  
“It’s important!”  
“So’s this!”  
“Okay! Just hurry your butt up!” Harley couldn’t keep the delight out of her tone, even if she wanted to try to disguise it. 

Harley bounced up and down in her seat, giddy with happiness. She knew that such a job, spending so much time working around plantlife, would be great for Pamela. She still had issues with dealing with ordinary people, hardly helped by her skin being coloured a strange hue of green. Harley thought it looked beautiful on the former Arkham inmate, but she could understand why common folk would be unnerved by it. They hadn’t gotten to meet the real Pamela. All they’d seen were people reporting in the news of what she had done to people. That wasn’t the true Pamela. 

The real Pamela was the quiet, charming woman that Harley had grown to know over months. The woman that managed to bring Harley happiness every time she as much as smiled. The woman that had slowly turned Harley’s slightly dingy flat into a place of beauty, with immaculately cultivated flowers resting in brightly coloured pots upon many of her tables. The woman that brought laughter to Harley with her dry wit and quiet sarcasm. 

Harley perhaps wondered what would have happened if she had been assigned to a different inmate at Arkham. Would her life have been so different to how it was now? She couldn’t possibly know. And as much as she sometimes pondered the topic, she found it pointless to fixate upon. After all, no matter what, she had treated Pamela. That was the woman she had grown to care so much for, the first person in Arkham that she could consider a friend. Not some laughing sociopath trapped in the deepest cell of the Asylum.

Harley heard quiet footsteps emanating from the kitchen.  
“Hey, Red!” Harley spoke, not looking at the redhead that approached. She had grown to trust Pamela completely over the months that the two had lived together in the same small flat. Some small things still threw Harley off- the fact that Pamela didn’t have to eat nearly as much as Harley did, due to her unique physiology, and the fact that the woman only ate either meat, or fruits and vegetables that she herself grew, for example. Still, she was such a wonderful presence that her small quirks only made her more interesting, and fun. 

A sharp pain in Harley’s neck definitely caught the blonde off-guard, however.  
“Fuck!” Harley hissed as one of her hands flew to her neck, to be caught in a tight grip by a green-hued hand.  
“Sorry, I just figured it was better to ask forgiveness than permission here.” Harley realised that Pamela was holding a syringe, filled with liquid coloured a faint green. Pamela pressed down on the syringe, flooding the liquid into Harley’s system. The moment that Pamela pulled the syringe out, she quickly pressed a plaster over the small wound, a soft smile on her features.  
“What was that for?” Harley didn’t feel particularly different. If anything, she felt only more energised. Whether that was the drug or the adrenalin from the shock was anyone’s guess.  
“A drug I’ve developed. Gives the person that takes it an immunity and resistance to most toxins. I made sure it doesn’t affect alcohol or medical things, though, don’t worry.”  
“And why test it on me?”

“This.” Pamela grinned, and dove towards Harley. Before the blonde could react, Pamela pressed her lips against Harley in a hungry, desperate, and passion-loaded kiss. Harley’s eyes flew open as Pamela’s fingers tangled themselves in her blonde locks, holding the pale woman close. The moment that Harley adjusted to being in such a passionate embrace, she discarded both the letter and cheque to her sides, and curled her arms around Pamela’s shoulders, refusing to let the redhead go. 

Harley didn’t know how much time had passed as Pamela kissed her. The entire world could have come to an end, and she wouldn’t have cared a single bit.  
“So… Do you think it was worth it?” Pamela gently pressed her finger against Harley’s nose. Harley shook her head for a moment, a coy grin growing upon her visage.  
“Oh, I don’t know…. Perhaps you’ll need to test again, Red?”  
“I can do that. Though the test will take a while… Might take the entire night, I don’t know…”  
“And we’ll need to test again every day to see if anything changes.” Harley agreed. Pamela laughed.  
“I love you, Harley.”  
“I lo-” Harley couldn’t reply, her mouth quickly occupied by Pamela’s lips capturing her own once more. Harley fell backwards onto the couch, a laugh escaping her throat even mid-kiss. She squeezed her eyes shut. This had been the best day of Harley’s entire life. And Pamela? Pamela was the best person in Harley’s entire life.


End file.
